


checkmate

by prinsipe



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinsipe/pseuds/prinsipe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seijuro is wearing shorts smaller than the amount of self-control Shuzo has left and has the nerve to say, “Did you need something?”</p><p>“No,” Shuzo lies.</p><p>He’s definitely fucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> no actual smut (for now) (i just spent around an hour reading how-to-write smut guides who allowed me on the internet) but its suggestive enough to warrant the m rating. i think
> 
> basically: nijimura's thirsty. akashi's thirsty. i'm thirsty

Seijuro is a great partner. Hell, he’s an _excellent_ partner--Shuzo’s lost count of the amount of times he’s forgotten to take care of something (be it washing dishes or feeding the fish), panicked about it, and found later that Seijuro had it all under control. It’s nothing less than what he’s expected: Seijuro _always_ has everything and anything under control, and unfortunately, this includes Shuzo’s libido.

**.**

**.**

He’s pretty sure Seijuro is doing all he possibly can to distract Shuzo from whatever he’s _supposed_ to be doing. It’s summer, and he can hardly blame Seijuro when it’s hot as balls outside, but he’s also sure Seijuro will survive even if he’s _not_ in outfits that could get him arrested for indecent exposure. He’s trying to focus on the novel he’s writing and not the curve of Seijuro’s ass when he’s caught staring.

Seijuro is wearing shorts smaller than the amount of self-control Shuzo has left and has the nerve to say, “Did you need something?”

“No,” Shuzo lies.

He’s definitely fucked.

**.**

**.**

Seijuro waltzes into his bedroom at a later time. A quick look outside tells Shuzo it’s late, but not _that_ late, and the sun’s still making its way across the sky. He’s got time (if he’s lucky, he’s got a lot of it). He’s about to stick his face in the farthest part of the freezer, but Seijuro (like the goddamn angel he is--and that’s more than a little laughable to Shuzo) graces him with a large glass of ice cold water.

His explanation is weak, and he knows it. “You were working especially hard today,” Seijuro tells him, putting the cup on Shuzo’s desk. His finger lingers on the rim of the cup before he draws it back. “It’s hot, too, so I thought you could use a drink.”

Shuzo blinks, says, “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Seijuro’s already been gone for around three minutes when Shuzo remembers that he hasn’t taken a single sip of water.

(They’re both aware he’s going to need more than _water_ to quench his thirst.)

**.**

**.**

Shuzo is tired of working, tired of staring at a white computer screen, and just plain out _tired_ in general, but his editor will have his head and then some if he’s not finished in two days. Shuzo’s more than aware two days is hardly enough time, not with Seijuro walking around like he owns the place. (He does, but that’s not the point.)

“My friends are coming over tomorrow,” Seijuro says before Shuzo can remember when he’s gotten there. “Around noon. You’ll be gone by then, right?”

Right. Shuzo’s got a lecture to do, among other things. “I should be.”

Seijuro crosses his legs, stretches his arms above his head and _yawns._ The shirt riding up reveals a pale stomach, and the shorts are just low enough for him to see the hip bones dipping back into them. He’s doing that on purpose. He’s definitely doing that on purpose.

“--jimura?” Seijuro’s voice brings him back to reality, and he blinks for a few more moments. “Are you even listening to me?”

 _Not really._ “Sorry, could you repeat that? Must be the heat getting to my head.” He scratches at his neck and prays that Seijuro leaves it alone.

He does, but Shuzo knows it’s only because the truth is something he knows, too. “I asked how long you were going to be out, so I could have them leave on time.”

“A few hours,” Shuzo says. His fingers ache for the keyboard and something else.

“Specifically?” Seijuro walks over to his desk and picks up the empty glass. “It’s not like you to forget to put things back.” (It is, actually, but Seijuro needs an excuse, Shuzo knows.)

“Two or three.” Shuzo’s amazed that he still has the ability to speak.

“Alright,” Seijuro says, yawns again.

He’s only just turned around when Shuzo notices it. “Is that my shirt?”

Seijuro glances at him, toying with the hem of the shirt. The back of it has Shuzo’s jersey number and the name _Nijimura_ on it in bold, bright colours. Shuzo should not find that as hot as he does. “Yes. My others are in the wash.”

“I’m sure you would have been able to find something else,” Shuzo growls, forcing himself to turn back to the computer. It doesn’t seem to be working.

“I checked,” says Seijuro. “Would you rather I walk around without a shirt altogether?”

“Go _away,_ ” Shuzo says with all the strength he can muster, and Seijuro does.

**.**

**.**

He’s back, though. Shuzo’s not surprised at all--Seijuro _always_ comes back. He’s not sure whether to praise the gods or curse them.

“It’s late,” Seijuro says, in his _I-can’t-believe-you’ve-resisted-me-for-this-long_ voice. Shuzo can’t believe it, either. “You’ve been working on it all day.”

“Whose fault is it that I can’t get anything done?”

“Yours.” Seijuro walks back over to the side of his laptop, leaning his side against the desk. His eyes are on Shuzo’s screen, not Shuzo’s face.

“You’re the one distracting me,” Shuzo says. He’s never wanted to cry more.

“You’re the one being distracted.” Shuzo’s only a little surprised he doesn’t bother denying anything.

Shuzo throws his pen off into the far distance, realizing his mistake a second too late. From the look on Seijuro’s face, he realizes it too. Shuzo begins to pray. “I give up.”

“You shouldn’t. You have deadlines to meet.”

 _I’m sorry that we_ all _can’t be super rich and successful businessmen,_ Shuzo wants to say, but his mouth’s already gone dry. Seijuro stops leaning on the desk and walks over to wear the pencil’s fallen, bending over to pick it up. He stays in that position longer than he should before turning back around. “Here,” he says, tosses the pencil at Shuzo. He doesn’t bother catching it. “I’ll leave you to do your work for now.”

He leaves Shuzo with that and a flurry of horrendously inappropriate thoughts. Shuzo feels his blood rushing downwards and considers moving out.

**.**

**.**

Surprisingly, it’s Seijuro who gives in before he does, though not by much. Shuzo’s just about ready to stop doing his work and move on to doing something (someone?) else when Seijuro closes the bedroom door behind him.

“Hey,” Shuzo says, but Seijuro ignores him and cuts right to the chase. He’s always been rather direct about what he wants, and _when_ he wants it. Shuzo guesses he’d got no reason to change his tactics when they’re already working so damn well.

Seijuro pulls himself onto Shuzo’s lap, straddling him. He’s got one hand gripping the collar of Shuzo’s shirt and the other on the armrest when he says, “Take a break.”

Shuzo presses his hands to Seijuro’s hips, enjoying the way Seijuro shudders. He slips a few fingers into the rim of the shorts and-- _holy shit_ \--is met with hot, bare skin and--

Shuzo does.


End file.
